Amidst the house of autumn's hue,
A season's tale unfolds, both old and new,
Where leaves descend in a graceful dance,
In nature's fleeting, bittersweet romance.
The air grows crisp, a whispered lullaby,
As summer's warmth gives way to cooler nights,
Yet in this change, a beauty can't deny,
For fall's a painter, her works filled with vibrant lights.
Each leaf a brushstroke, crimson, gold, and brown,
In their descent, they gently fly down,
Adorning trees like gowns of royalty,
A fragile, transient act of loyalty.
Harvest's bound fills the rustic earth,
A feast for senses, flavors to explore,
In every orchard, vineyard, and hearth,
Autumn's rich tapestry, we do adore.
But in this season's splendor, we must see,
A deeper truth, a life's duality,
For as the leaves must fall from every tree,
In the end, there's the promise of vitality.
Posted in response to the challenge Fall: Writing.
Comments
Every line of this poem is more rich and colorful than the last -- its own fall leaf! "A feast for senses": what a perfect way to describe the season, too. But undoubtedly your last stanza is the most beautiful, noting the promise of spring and rebirth in every falling leaf that marks the year's end.
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